


Optimism

by Sildae



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, the brotp years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 20:05:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9140221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sildae/pseuds/Sildae
Summary: In which Ahsoka's battle strategies are a little too fragrant.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Posted originally to tumblr for Rexsoka week; archiving to AO3.

"That isn’t going to work."

"Oh, c’mon, Rex. Where’s your optimism?"

"Back with the ship," the captain muttered.

By which, he meant the smoking, charred ruins of their handy little runner, sleek and fast and absolutely no match for the Separatist frigate that had swatted it down like a buzzfly, not twenty minutes before.

Rex hadn’t commented on her piloting skills. Ahsoka was grateful for small favors.

Knowing her Master, she’d be stuck in sim-training when she got back, anyway.

Rex shifted his weight—slow and deliberate even at a hunched crouch, as if his scorched armor wasn’t highly noticeable against all the sludgy red and green of the summer melt. Ahsoka’s white leggings were already stained into a nice, disgusting camouflage. "Looks like they’re landing."

The crash had left them stranded on Tiesin IX’s far northern continent, their ship’s pillar of smoke a smudgy black beacon against the yellow sky and apparently irresistible to the Separatists. Rex and Ahsoka had ducked away from the burning scrap with the intent of finding cover, but so far, all Ahsoka could see was tundra—flat, flat, and more flat.

The only available cover was the knee-high scrubby gray brush—sticky and stinky with sap, like overripe ratfruit—and a few milling, bleating herds of some horned ungulate, gray-and-red stripes vivid against the slushy mud, churning it all up into a fly-infested miasma.

No trees. No rocks. Nothing. Unless Ahsoka could grow horns and become one with the herd.

Not surprisingly, Rex had nixed every one of her suggestions thus far.

"You’re going to have to trust me," she mumbled, half-irritated at him.

"I do. But your plans need numbers." The captain’s visor was pointed up, rangefinder ticked down and training along the glowing orange of the frigate. It burned through atmosphere in a slow march to the surface, as bulky and awkward in its descent as it was in battle. "It’s just us two, Commander, and I’m no Jedi."

"What could they be after?" Ahsoka didn’t know much about the system, but she knew enough; as far as she could tell, there wasn’t a reason for the Separatists to stick their noses in. But then, entire sectors had been lost for nothing more than claiming rights, so this was nothing new.

And if the Republic had to squabble over empty worlds, they’d be out men and resources faster than a voorpak after a crumblebun.

"It’s not the world they’re after," Rex said. He shifted again, and with a quiet snick, retracted his rangefinder. "It’s what this system is close to."

"Which is…?"

But Rex didn’t answer her, and with a silent grumble, Ahsoka ran through what little she remembered. There were hyperlane cross-points close to Tiesins, but not close enough for convenience. The Republic relied on spaceports to man the hyperlane watch, and those spaceports had all reported green—no Separatist activity…until a hunch had locked Ahsoka on a minor electromagnetic wavelength, pulsing gently on just one auxiliary sensor.

But—regardless—out here, there just wasn’t anything worthwhile. "We’re three systems from Anaxes," she pointed out.

"By hyperlane, that’s not far."

"But we have the hyperlanes monitored?" Ahsoka knew it was more question than statement and put some force in her voice. Rex was a tolerant mentor—more tolerant than her Master, at least—but she was still the commanding officer here. "We control the spaceport in the area, and there’s no unauthorized activity."

"Unless the Seppies got their hands on new routes. Minor hyperlanes get discovered all the time. The Republic has to be vigilant."

Ahsoka tightened her hold on her lightsaber hilt. It was cool and steady beneath her palm. "Skyguy would say something like borrowing trouble, Rex."

The captain shrugged. "Have to consider it from all angles, sir. We wouldn’t be here if not for you."

Ahsoka stiffened. "I thought it was worth checking out!”

"And it was," Rex said quickly.

"And if they get a foothold here, they could launch an attack on the spaceport—"

"And then Anaxes." Rex tipped his helmet to her, a rare sign of approval. "From where I’m looking, they’ve got plenty of reasons for setting up base here."

Ahsoka chewed on her lower lip. Even at this distance, she could see the frigate’s complement spilling out like so many swarming beetles; could even see them pulling out construction droids–squat and slow and heavy—to put up walls.

The Separatists wanted a base. If the droids got the walls up, Rex and Ahsoka wouldn’t stand a chance.

"Us being vigilant meant a crashed ship," she pointed out. And two dead men—good men.

"It was necessary. Your instincts were right."

"But now, we’re stuck."

"Looks like it, sir. Two against at least a thousand. Those aren’t good odds, even for you." He glanced at her, and Ahsoka could swear he’d softened his words with one of his rare half-smiles, hidden behind that familiar helmet.

Behind her, a bull ungulate let out a mopey bleat and Ahsoka heard the scrape of horns. When she glanced back, a cow had trundled closer, blinking its pale eyes and snuffling at the scrub.

A little thrill shot through her. This would be fun. And definitely not by the books.

"You really trust me?" she asked.

Rex, ever-serious, answered immediately. "Of course, sir."

"Here’s the plan. _And_ I've got the numbers."

* * *

Anakin Skywalker crossed his arms over his chest. Re-crossed them. Then wiped one hand across his mouth.

Ahsoka saw the tell-tale glint in his eye, but fought down her initial reaction for Rex’s sake. The good captain was standing at rigid attention next to her, stiff enough that he’d probably crack if she poked him.

"Captain, are you saying that you…took over an entire Separatist ship?"

"Yes, sir."

"With a herd of bantha?"

"No, sir."

"No?"

"Well," Ahsoka put in. "They weren’t bantha."

"So…a herd of…animals."

"Yes, sir."

"And why did you do this?"

"We needed numbers, sir."

"And you _kept_ them?"

"We, um." Ahsoka fidgeted. "We couldn’t get them all off. So, they came with us."

"But not all the way," Anakin said, his voice bland and a suspicious tick at one corner of his mouth.

"No-oo," Ahsoka said slowly. "We sort of…"

"Sold them." Rex picked up the tale and Ahsoka choked back a laugh. "For fuel."

"Well." When Ahsoka hesitated, her Master swung his full attention onto her. "First it was transport to another planet."

"And another pick-up," Rex added. "Then fuel."

"A pick-up of…?"

"Bantha," Rex acceded.

"Bantha." Her Master flicked his gaze between the two of them. "Huh."

"It was…interesting, sir," Rex said, and Ahsoka could’ve sworn she heard his bones pop from standing so straight. "And it worked to overwhelm the enemy."

Silence held for almost half a minute. Ahsoka watched her Master, but he somehow managed to avoid her gaze. The tick at the corner of his mouth was almost uncontrollable.

"You almost missed marching orders," Anakin finally said, covering up a suspicious cough with the ball of his fist. "I need you both in the war room at 0900."

"Yes, sir!" Rex said, not even hiding the gratitude in his voice. Rex, Ahsoka had discovered, hated large animals. Especially large, obstinate, _pungent_  animals.

"You know what—" Anakin waved vaguely at them both. "You can be late. Actually—I'm making that an order."

Ahsoka bristled. “Why?” While she had plans to tease Rex about one particularly amorous cow, she mostly wanted to forget the whole smelly ordeal.

A nerfherder, she was not.

"Hit the showers, first. You both stink."

_fin_


End file.
